'Let’s go over this again, folks. Just what do we need here?'

'We need a star with box-office appeal. A wow with the ladies. A solid athlete who can follow what the stunt team tell him what to do. A man who will appear to take chances in real life as much as on the screen. This film has to kick ass. This film has to read action. Just like in the old days when they made films in celluwhatever.'

‘Bit difficult to do that these days, Myron. The insurance hits the roof with as much as a sprained wrist. All the old action stars are too old or unbankable. It’ll be a lot cheaper if we go with CGI...’

‘Not again, Libby. I want to direct some real flesh this time. All I end up doing is telling the effects crew want I want done.’

‘It’s cheaper! We don’t have any star tantrums. No insurance problems. No unions to worry about, especially if we film abroad. Even better we can make him look like what we really want.’

‘Which is?’

‘Let’s see. Tall. Muscular. Dark thick hair. Dimpled chin.’

  The casting director flicked her computer screen on and fed in the information and a new movie star was born on the holo-pad.

‘If this was a porn flick, he’d have a big...’

‘Blue eyes.’

‘Al’s right. He looks like a porn star. That was last year. Give him shorter hair. Deeper cheek-bones. A meaner look.’

 ‘He’s beginning to look like a taller younger version of that Stallone guy with a crew-cut crossed with that other chubby guy, Arnold someonenother...the one who cut his career short for politics.’

 ‘At least he hasn’t got spots. I can put some in if you want? A scar maybe? That’ll make him look tough. A scar on the eyebrow looks sexy. Look at that Buffy vampire.’

‘Give him a tattoo.’

‘It’ll cost extra but no problem. Skin compositing will cover it. Whatcha’ want?’

‘Dunno. Al? What’s this film about again?’

The director sighed. ‘It’s an action flick. He’s gotta rescue a girl from some terrorists. Lottas death. Lottas blood.’

 ‘I bet he’s a fun guy, too. Give ‘im a clown holding a machine gun.’

 ‘Yeah. I can do that.’

The tattoo appeared on the figure’s chest.’

 ‘That’s terrible.’

 ‘We can tidy up later.’

' No, I mean it’s a terrible position. Put it on his arm. He won’t have to go shirtless. Getting sweat coating the tattoo is gonna cost more than leaving a shirt on.’

‘It’ll also save a fortune in body hair.’

‘One short-sleeve tee-shirt.’

‘Shirt. Short-sleeve shirt. Give him some pants, Libby. I’m getting fed up looking at his...Yeah! That’s better’

‘Say, do you know who that looks like?’

 ‘Who, Al?’

‘Johnny Westmile. He’s done a few flicks. Looking for his big break.’

  ‘We could cut costs and digitise him.’

  ‘And have lawsuits for person infringement. It’ll be cheaper to hire him than that.’

  ‘He hasn’t reached his full potential yet. He won’t cost us big bucks on this picture. Johnny’s probably willing to sign a stunt waver. Do the publicity and we can get on with the film without him setting foot on the set.’

  ‘You’ve been talking to him?’

  ‘Met him at a party last week. Dynamic with chicks. Couldn’t get him to a couch. He’s loaded with charisma. You can’t buy that with beef pixel. Wants to really act as well.’

  ‘If he’s that good, we’re going to have to find a girl to match him.’

  ‘No problem. We can go with a pixel babe or any starlet who wants a day in the sun. Whatever, it can be added later. Cannes ‘posed to the good weather this year.’

  ‘Let’s just sort out the leading man for the moment.’

  ‘Have you got a picture of this Westmile, Libby?’

  ‘Just looking at the database. Here he is. I’ll line them up together for comparison.’

  The images appeared together on the holo-pad and rotated.

  ‘He’s got balls.’

  ‘I can see that. Does he come with clothes on?’

  ‘Sorry. Private file. Here.’

  ‘Girls go for that?’

  ‘Yeah! He’s a real lady-killer. Look at those eyes...’

  ‘Guess he’s not available for your casting couch, Myron.’

  ‘Can’t we check? He might swing both ways?’

  ‘Be more fun than directing an effects pixel.’

  ‘You might be right. Even if he don’t screw around, it’ll make him edgy and appeal to the chicks. Remember Ben Larby?’

  ‘But he was gay.’

  ‘No shit! How did I miss him on the couch?’

  ‘All right, Al. We’ll go with your boy. Only one thing...?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can’t we change the head?’

  ‘I’ll get on to the plastic surgeon!’

  ‘Can we keep the eyes?’

  ‘For all I care, you can keep the stud’s...

  ‘He isn’t showing it on this picture?’

  ‘It’s a film for kids...’

end

(c) GF Willmetts
- all rights reserved - October 2003

Side-note: This story was sort of a challenge. Sorting through recent stories in the slush pile, a few stories were becoming just dependent on dialogue. It doesn’t really work in a novel but it ended up as an interesting exercise for a short story providing enough information and energy is used so you can see where the characters are coming from.